


you don't have to do it alone

by trashsenal



Series: sidekicks [1]
Category: Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Mentions of Rape, and i was like, and there's a lot of subject matter to talk about, because I LOVE Kate Bishop, it's the one where Kate tells Jessica her story, previous rape and sexual assault, this is the AU where Kilgrave used Kate in place of Hope, when will we get the Young Avengers in the MCU when, yknow I was reading over a Young Avengers volume, yo how do I do this in the Netflix verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 22:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11217726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashsenal/pseuds/trashsenal
Summary: “Y’know, you were right.” Kate decides. “Life sucks. It’s short. And sometimes bad things happen. And it doesn’t matter how good your grades were, how many hours of community service you put in, how badly you wanted to help people-- the bad things overlook all that. You don’t feel safe when they happen. But you can either let them destroy you or learn to live with them. Because even if you don’t ever feel safe again, you can try to make sure others do.” She pauses. “And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you don’t have to do it alone.”Jessica smiles, and this time no one makes her. “So, what’s the superhero name?”Kate laughs, but Jessica isn’t sure she’s joking. “I kind of like Hawkeye. I don’t care if it’s taken.”





	you don't have to do it alone

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, yeah, so I was re-reading over Sidekicks and I realized that Kate Bishop is awesome and we need her in the MCU, and I was inspired to write this after that one panel where Kate confides in Jess and tells her about her assault. That piece of Kate dialogue in the summary is more or less taken straight from the comics. Anyways, enjoy!

Katherine Bishop has shiny dark hair and shiny blue eyes, porcelain skin, a delicate nose, full lips. She wears a blazer embroidered with the crest of some fancy school in New England, but the buttons are undone and her white knee-highs have a grass stain on them. Old money, Jessica figures, when the distraught mother slides over the photograph with soft, white hands and freshly manicured gel nails. A gold ring strangles the fourth finger on her left hand. It’s probably twenty-four karats, designer, with big diamonds. Her high-end perfume clings to the silk scarf wrapped around her hair. 

“I’ll pay you whatever you want,” The mother pulls out her checkbook. “It’s fine. Please. Just help me get my Katie back.”

Sometimes, Jessica gives a damn, and that's her goddamn problem. With an eight hundred dollar deposit, she sets out to find Katherine Bishop-- last seen leaving Bishop Publications five weeks ago. According to the files, Katie lived a privileged life. She had more money than she knew what to do with, which was probably why she spent her free time volunteering at women's shelters and soup kitchens. Outstanding grades and test scores; she’d graduated top of her class at her finishing academy in New Hampshire, and was starting her freshman year at Columbia in the fall. A damn good archer, apparently, since she was being looked at for the Olympics. Since leaving her father’s building five weeks ago, she appeared to have dropped off the face of the Earth. No texts, calls went straight to voicemail, no emails. 

Jessica has dealt with enough cases to know when someone wants to stay missing. Or when someone else wants them to. She follows the leads, she strings pieces together, till her skin prickles as if someone she didn’t want were touching her. Katherine Bishop is not missing, because the person keeping her captive dangles her in plain sight like bait on a hook. Jessica wants to run, but Trish convinces her to stay. 

She finds Katherine Bishop in a luxury hotel at the end of a wearily trodden trail of clues that only make her skin prickle even more. The girl’s face shines with tears, her nails tear and her fingers fill with splinters as she claws at the walls in an effort to stop Jessica from taking her away from an unmade king bed reeking of fear. Jessica wraps her in her jacket and sits her down in her office.

“It is  _ not  _ your fault.” Jessica crouches in front of her. “Repeat after me.”   
  
Katherine Bishop gasps for air before breaking into tears again. Jessica wants to shake out the purple bags beneath her eyes. “ _ It is not your fault.” _ __  
__  
“It’s… Not my fault.” 

Good. She tells the mother to take her as far away as possible-- to take her out of the country, even-- and to keep her supervised. She misses the gun tucked neatly into her purse when she goes in for a hug, when she thanks her for saving her life, misses the elevator by seconds. The police drag Katherine Bishop out of the building trembling and covered in her mother’s blood. All Jessica can do it stare at the scene left behind with shaking hands herself.

Of course, the case of a local heiress shooting her mother dead in an elevator makes headlines the next day. The press blames it on mental illness, drugs, bad parenting. Too spoiled, didn’t have to work for anything, we shouldn’t feel sorry for the crazy girl that murdered her mother in cold blood. 

“I’m not crazy.” Katherine Bishop has purple bruises around her wrists from the handcuffs that hold her to the table. “He… He made me do things. I didn’t want to kill my mom, but he told me to. I swear, I didn’t want to.”   
  
“I believe you.” Jessica reassures her. “You’re not crazy.”   
  
“I was just on my way to the women’s shelter,” She stares emptily at her wrists. “When I was leaving my dad’s building that day. He told me to have dinner with him. I don’t know what made me do it, but I didn’t  _ want  _ to.”   
  
“I get it.” Jessica says softly. 

The girl looks up. Beneath the fluorescent prison lights her skin looks sallow and sickly-- no longer porcelain, but cheap white ceramic that’s been used for far too long. “This is your fault.” She suddenly spits with hard eyes. “He said you left him there to die. This wouldn’t be happening if it weren’t for you.”  
  
And maybe she’s right. The Bishop family lawyers-- the  _ lovely  _ folks at HB&C-- reluctantly take the case, but only because Derek Bishop doesn’t want his daughter to cause a scandal. It’s a little late for that, Jessica muses over a bottle of whiskey, because darling  _ Katie’s  _ name is splattered all over the media like how her mother’s blood was splattered on the elevator walls. The lawyers say she’s facing life, but pleading insanity would soften the sentence to a comfy stay in a psych ward. It’s bullshit. Jessica knows she’s many things-- alcoholic, volatile, abrasive-- but insane is not one of them, and neither is Katherine Bishop. 

“I ruined my sister’s wedding.” She laughs hollowly one day when Jessica visits her. The bruises on her wrists are fading. “She was getting married that weekend at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Everyone was so excited for it. I was supposed to be her maid of honor, I had the stupid expensive dress that could feed a family in Niger for  _ weeks  _ and everything. Susan wanted all her bridesmaids to wear purple, because it’s my favorite color, and she wanted me to enjoy at least something. She knows I don't like all that extravagance. I don’t know if she plans to go through with it, though. The wedding, I mean. A dead mother and an incarcerated,  _ crazy  _ sister blamed for her murder kinda puts a damper on things.”

“You’re not crazy, Bishop.” Jessica scoffs as gently as she can. “Neither of us are. You know what he does."   


“Yeah, but does everyone else?” She retorts. “I get that some weird shit has happened in New York, but mind control is a new one.”   
  
“Listen, if goddamn aliens blew this city up a couple of years ago and people didn’t try to make excuses for it, they can buy an evil piece of shit with mind control powers.”   
  
“But they  _ do  _ come up with excuses. If… If I testify to a jury they’re going to say I consented because technically I  _ did--” _   
  


“Kate. You were under his control.” Jessica cuts her off. “You didn’t consent to anything. It’s  _ not  _ your fault.” 

“Well, then it’s not yours, either. I’m sorry for saying it was.”   
  
“That was Kilgrave speaking.” Jessica says quickly to dismiss the very notion that this isn’t her responsibility. “Don’t apologize."   


Kate’s a tough girl despite what her last name suggests. She has callouses on her fingers from holding her bow, and lean legs that quiver to run away from her cell. In a way, she reminds Jessica a bit of Trish. She hates to admit it, but it makes her feel something for the girl. Not affection, not care, tenderness, none of that shit. But it’s something, even if she can’t yet pinpoint what it is. When she gets a call from Hogarth that Kate’s been beaten, she’s almost angry that she didn't fight back because she most definitely can. But then, when she gets to the infirmary, she understands _._

“My dad is already pissed about all this.” She confides in Jessica. This time, purple-green-blue bruises mar her face and not just her wrists. “Imagine how much worse it’d be if I had this… this thing?”

“Well, don’t do it for him.” Jessica shakes her head. “You do it for  _ you.  _ Are you sure you want to?”

That hard glint returns to her eyes, that steeliness, that determination, that I-am-in-control-of-myself coldness. 

“That miserable piece of shit raped me.” Her words are clipped and her hands are balled into fists. She’s holding back. “ _ I  _ get to chose this.  _ I’m  _ in control now.”

Maybe Jessica smiles at that. She’s in control of herself when she stays with him at her house, and when she seals him in the cell. It’s a bit gratifying watching him painfully writhe when she presses the button that shoots electricity into the water. She could kill him in an instant. No one would know, no one would miss him. But this isn’t just about her anymore, and she has control to make it right for everyone he’s ruined. She slams on the button again, but she won’t kill him. Yet.    
  
“I’m not taking the plea bargain Hogarth offered.” Kate’s voice crackles over the phone. “Kilgrave needs to rot in prison.”   
  
“He won’t.” Jessica says, involuntarily glancing back towards the cell. “As soon as I get proof of his powers for your trial, I’m going to kill him.”   
  
There’s silence on the other end of the line. “Kate?”   
  
“You’re going to kill him?” The girl asks, her voice barely above a whisper.    
  
“Yeah.” She glances back towards the cell again. “Do you have a problem with it?”   
  
“I mean, no.” Kate answers sheepishly. “Not really. But…” She sighs. “Can you make that call? Who lives and who dies? Heroes--”   
  
“I’m not a hero, kid.” She cuts her off sharply. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re the last person he hurts.”   
  
But he keeps on hurting people, tacking names to his already long list, and Jessica feels powerless until she realizes he has no effect on her. He stare at her for a split second, a horrible realization dawning in his eyes, when she doesn’t let go of him despite his command. It’s the ultimate I’m-in-control, and it’s fucking  _ liberating.  _ One more step towards recovery, towards agency of her life. But there’s still the matter of responsibility, and how it’s mishandled when Kate is released. 

“I want this to go to court.” The girl insists. “There’s no closure in convincing them to let me go. Everyone still thinks I’m crazy, I’ll be labeled a murderer for the rest of my life. This  _ wasn’t  _ my doing.”   
  
“Of course it wasn’t, Kate, but you get to walk out and live the rest of your life in freedom--”   
  
“ _ Freedom?  _ I haven’t been free since that day I walked out of my father’s building with the intention to  _ help people  _ only to become helpless myself. Every time I close my eyes, I can hear him telling me to do things, I can feel him touching me, and I wake up crying because I know that I can’t step out of prison without people blaming  _ me  _ for something I didn’t want to do. Unless we proved them wrong. He needs to assume responsibility.” 

Jessica sighs. “Well, he’s batshit, so you know he’ll never do that. But I can.”   
  
“What, by killing him? People  _ need  _ to know what he did to--”   
  
“You think you’re the only one?” Jessica snaps. “You think yours is the only life he ruined? Join the fucking club, because he made me fucking kill someone, too, but I’m not beating myself up over not being able to bring him in front of the law. Sometimes things don’t turn out as perfect as you want them to, so you take what you can, and make the fuck do, because that’s  _ life.  _ And it sucks, goddammit, it really does. But you’re being given the chance to walk away and restart yours in the best way possible. Not everyone gets that.”   
  
“I’m  _ not  _ walking away. Not when I can do something to set things right.”   
  
Jessica’s fingers wrap tightly around the phone. “Yeah, well, you can’t anymore, because you’re exonerated. When they let you walk tomorrow, I want you to call up one of your daddy’s chauffeurs and have them take you as far away as possible. If don’t  _ ever  _ want to hear about you involved in this self-righteous shit again.”   
  
She hangs up as forcefully as how her fist collided with Reva Conners’ chest. This had all been her responsibility from the start, but now it’s her obligation. It takes every ounce of control in her body to not stop Trish from helping her. This is her battle to fight alone, her sins to atone for, her closure. And in the process, she’ll be getting closure for the long trail of bodies behind her.  The pier is wet from a recent rainfall, but it’s arrows that rain on the fighting crowd. Jessica plucks one out of the leg of a man only to notice they’re meant to sedate. She nearly crushes it in her hand, and scans the line of buildings lining the piers for a bow and quiver. Katherine Bishop just doesn’t take no for an answer, does she? Stubborn little rich girl. 

“Stubborn girl.” Kilgrave mutters, looking at the arrow clutched in Jessica’s hand. “Oh, don’t give me that look, I wasn't talking to you, Jessica. Not this time, at least. I miss the days when people didn’t have this notion of heroics knocked into their thick skulls. Then, some loons  _ save _ the city, or so they claim, and  _ bam--  _ it’s like everyone wants to be a hero. Cute, isn’t it? But we know some people just aren’t cut out for it. Like you, like me. Like little Katie lurking up on those rooftops. What’s the alias, Katie?” He mocks, calling up to the roof. “Are you Hawkeye, now? You realize that one’s already taken--”   
  
Jessica takes great pleasure in seeing a purple arrow lodge itself in  _ Kevin’s  _ arm, causing him to roar and curse in pain. The kid shouldn’t have gotten herself involved, that’s still for damn sure, but she’s a hell of a shot. 

“That’s fine.” Kilgrave snarls lowly as he pulls the arrow out. “Katie, come down here!”    
  
Jessica’s stomach lurches when Kate climbs down from her rooftop. She’s dressed in black and purple--  _ her _ favorite color-- her face halfway covered by a scarf, and has an expensive-looking bow strapped to her back. Kilgrave beckons her towards him.   
  
“Stay.” He hands her the bloodied arrow. “And take this.”   
  
He uses Trish as the ultimate contingency, controls her like he did her. He’s willing to negotiate, though, because he’s always been  _ fair  _ like that, and agrees to let Trish go in exchange for herself. She smiles when he tells her to. She lets him think he has control again.   
  
“Katie,” He-- paranoid, insecure,  _ pathetic  _ as ever-- addresses the other girl lazily without ever taking his eyes off Jessica. “If Jessica doesn’t say ‘I love you’, I want you to take that arrow and pierce your throat with it.”   
  
Kate places the red tip of the arrow to the porcelain of her throat without a fight. She was right about the responsibility, about having the chance to set things right. Jessica makes sure to look directly at Trish when she says “I love you”, and straight into Kevin’s eyes when she snaps his neck. Kate lowers the arrow and grips it tightly in her hand. Her wide eyes reflect the yellow light of the streetlamp. 

“Go.” Jessica tells her. “You did what you wanted to.”

“He’s dead.” She croaks, but there’s a hint of relief behind it. 

“Yeah.” Jessica nods, wiping her hands on her pants. “It’s over.”   
  
Truth is, it never will be. Jessica and Kate come to that conclusion a couple weeks later when they sit in the dark mess of her office with a bottle of whiskey between them. Kate doesn’t drink, but Jessica certainly does. Kate’s interview on  _ Trish Talk  _ went as expected, but what they didn’t expect was for it to open up an on-air discussion about why society blames the victim. At least it helps Jessica’s impending trial for murder.

“We’re getting people to speak out.” Kate smiles as she reads through comments. “I mean, not all of them were Kilgrave’s victims, but--”   
  
“Any man that tells me to smile is a piece of shit.” Jessica finishes for her, downing another shot. 

“Yeah.”   
  
There’s something that lingers, something that won’t go away even when its neck has been snapped. Jessica knows it. Kate knows it. But they don’t talk about it until they do.

“Y’know, you were right.” Kate decides. “Life sucks. It’s short. And sometimes bad things happen. And it doesn’t matter how good your grades were, how many hours of community service you put in, how badly you wanted to help people-- the bad things overlook all that. You don’t feel safe when they happen. But you can either let them destroy you or learn to live with them. Because even if you don’t ever feel safe again, you can try to make sure others do.” She pauses. “And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you don’t have to do it alone.”

Jessica smiles, and this time no one makes her. “So, what’s the superhero name?”   
  
Kate laughs, but Jessica isn’t sure she’s joking. “I kind of like Hawkeye. I don’t care if it’s taken.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments!!!


End file.
